A Pile of Blankets Just Won't Do
by lookslikeajobforthewinchesters
Summary: Neal misses what Kate gave him more than ever after being shot and cared for by the Burke's. He misses the closeness and the purity of love untainted by desire. (asexual Neal here, no naughty business for our favourite conman today) Neal/Peter/El - OT3. Short and sweet.


AN: Sorry to Devoregirl, who _did_ ask me to write more Neal Is A Womanizer stuff...I promise I'm working on a really awesome Neal/Alex fic _right now_ and that I'll probably even post it sometime this weekend! This just popped into my mind (even though it's the complete _opposite _of a womanizing Neal Caffrey...).

* * *

All the strangeness started after Neal 'moved out' of the Burke's house three weeks after being shot in the sternum. He'd stayed with them because El had a breakdown and insisted that Neal was in no position to take care of himself and June was in Monaco for some poker game she played every year. Mozzie was physically incapable of being around unhealthy people, so the decision was made that Neal would come home with them until he could walk up a flight of stairs without having some sort of catastrophic event.

It had been wonderful, Neal thought. El brought him soup in his bed and Peter let him watch _The Agony and The Ecstasy_ even though there was a game on once. El let him put his feet on the couch and she snuggled with him in the afternoons – she'd taken off work to look after him – and mussed her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. Peter let him stay on the couch all evening, too, and simply rested Neal's head in his lap when he wanted to sit on it with him. When he did this, he always rested his palm, flat and warm and comforting, on Neal's stomach. It was all Neal could do not to purr with happiness at the easy coziness of life with the Burke's.

And then he had to go back to his apartment at June's, which he loved and cherished gratefully, and stay there all by himself. He sat on his beautiful, uncomfortable couch all by himself and pretended that his stomach didn't feel cold. He didn't eat any homemade soup and his afternoons were spent on the patio with a rather large glass of wine and perfectly neat hair. He knew it wasn't fair of him to expect anything more of his partner and his wife, but Neal was suddenly very lonely in a world he'd been relatively fulfilled with a month ago.

Mozzie was stopping by again, but he knew Neal wasn't up for conspiracy or intrigue just yet. Besides, Neal was pretty sure Mozzie had a strong stance against couch cuddling. Neal settled for gathering up all the blankets in his apartment and piling them onto his bed, where he curled up and slept for a whole day. The weight of them was almost enough to convince him that El was holding onto him and a strategically wrapped quilt around an overstuffed pillow created a passable substitute for Peter's lap.

When Peter showed up to check on his two days later, he was still bundled in his cocoon of blankets and pillows. When Neal grinned out at Peter, his partner shook his head and set out the apartment to check for signs that Neal was going to perish on his own. It was clear that El had sent him because Peter would not be checking his fridge for food or bringing him a big glass of water with a straw or asking if he had enough books to read unless El had specifically told him to. Peter would have shown up, patted Neal's shoulder, and told him to get his butt into a shower. As it was, Peter sat himself down on the edge of Neal's bed and brushed his hair of his forehead.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good," Neal said, even though he was really very lonely. "I miss Kate."

Peter's eyebrows rose up in surprise, probably because Neal hadn't mentioned missing Kate in almost a year. Except now Neal was shot and feeling like he'd just gone through a breakup with the Burke's and he just wanted someone to cuddle up to him and sleep. Kate had been extraordinary – she'd never made it seem like long morning in July lazing in the sun or curling up on the same armchair for hours on a February afternoon were strange things for Neal to want. So they'd spent several years just holding each other and loving that neither of them expected anything else, all while running cons in the streets of New York. When Neal said he missed Kate, he didn't miss the cons. He missed the closeness.

"It's been a while since you missed Kate," Peter observed with a little frown. "I'd have thought you wouldn't want her to see you knocked off your game by a bullet."

No, that was exactly what Neal wanted. He wanted Kate because she'd see that he was hurt and would take care of him the way she always took care of him and he always took care of her.

"Kate was perfect when I was hurt, or when I was sick," Neal said quietly. "She was…safe."

Sitting in a big, fluffy chair entwined with Kate was the safest place Neal had ever been. Peter was frowning.

"I always got the impression that the two of you were sort of explosive with each other. You'd get hurt, or sick, or something and she'd take off. Or you were together because of the thrill," Peter confessed. "I thought your relationship was always sort of hostile."

"No," Neal laughed. "She was soft and warm and comforting. I don't think we ever even shouted."

"You sound surprised."

"Kate was the first girl to understand that I didn't want what everyone wants out of a relationship," Neal sighed. He turned onto his back, taking his mound of blankets with him. "It was refreshing to just be in a relationship instead of having to give things up to get what I wanted."

"And what was that?"

"Not much. Just holding each other," Neal told his partner. "All I ever wanted was the closeness."

Peter was quiet, observing Neal with a pensive sort of confusion. Neal settled for blinking slowly, half asleep with his pain medication taking effect.

"You and Kate never had sex, did you?" Neal can tell that Peter thinks this is a weird question, like he thinks there's _no way_ Neal could pine for someone and miss them and grieve for them so hard when they had never even been lovers.

"We did at the beginning," Neal is very nearly unconscious now. "Except it was only because we thought that's how it should be. So we stopped."

"Why?"

"Because we just wanted to be close."

"Huh."

Neal had drifted into unconsciousness before Peter could come up with more questions, so he just went home and told El about his conversation with a pain medication stoned Neal. She laughed and said something about how it was very obvious to her that all Neal wanted from anyone was to be held and spoken to softly. Peter was confused by this because Neal was the biggest ladies' man he'd ever met. El pointed out that, yes, Neal flirted outrageously, but had Peter ever actually seen him follow through?

Peter hadn't.

Peter and El had a long talk that lasted well into the morning hours. They talked about Neal's peculiar way of looking at relationships. They walked briefly about abuse because Peter was convinced that Neal must have been traumatized to feel this way, but El just told him that Neal felt everything just like everyone else. He loved deeply, he enjoyed the same things, and he wanted nothing more than for someone to love him, too. Neal was fine, she argued. He just didn't feel attraction like they did. Then they talked about how much they loved him and wished that he had someone now who could give him what Kate had.

When the morning rolled around, they collected Neal from his apartment and brought him back to their house. Peter sat on the far end of the couch and Neal and El tangled around each other with their heads in Peter's lap. They watched two movies – one art film that Neal and El loved and _Field of Dreams_, which Neal and El slept through – until they got hungry and went out for Chinese.

At the restaurant that was really more of a tiny room with a grungy counter and cash register, they huddled around the single table with only two chairs. Peter sat on the windowsill behind the table and let his wife and partner take the chairs.

"Neal," El said purposefully. "Peter told me that you miss Kate because you miss being close and warm and safe."

Neal looked startled. He vaguely remembered that conversation, but let El continue because it was true.

"We've decided that we would be happy to have you in our lives like that, if you wanted. We care a great deal about you and I'd be lying if I said you weren't the best damn cuddler in the great state of New York," she smiled, holding onto Neal's hands. Neal was smiling – not his usual smile, not the one that made women everywhere forget what they were doing. It was a smile that proved to Elizabeth that this was what Neal wanted.

"I like the dating part," Neal admitted. "Going out to dinner, walking in the snow, reading books on the couch…I don't like the naked-in-bed part."

Peter snorted into his container of food, hiding a chuckle. Neal glared.

"Sorry, Neal," Peter grinned. "It's just, that's _all_ I thought you liked."

"Nope," Neal leaned into El's fingers in his hair. "I like this."

"Then this is what it will be like," El told him firmly. "Will you move in with us? It's quick, but we all know what we're getting into now and we all know that no one's backing out. It's always the sex that complicates things, anyways. Besides, if all you want is romance, maybe Peter will step it up a notch."

She winked at Neal, who flushed and smiled. Peter rolled his eyes – Neal and El under one roof for eternity was bound to make his life more interesting.

"That sounds good."

They walked back to the house hand-in-hand and fell asleep in a pile of tangled limbs and El's hair and Neal's laughter.


End file.
